


Old Tricks

by Tinderbox of Sanity (Sephielya_J_Maxwell)



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, shadow clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephielya_J_Maxwell/pseuds/Tinderbox%20of%20Sanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old habits die hard, and making life more difficult for Wilson is one of the toughest to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Tricks

It was getting late enough to start becoming concerned. Almost an hour had passed since the sun went down, blanketing the wilderness in a heavy sheet of darkness. Wilson couldn't see more than a few paces outside of the light that the fire gave off, which was hardly enough to cover the tent, crock pot, and closest chests. As much as he wanted to turn in for some much needed sleep, Wilson's anxiety wouldn't allow him to rest without knowing what became of his campmate. The hard-headed former puppet-master had up and decided to go off on his own without so much as an excuse other than 'I have to collect a resource.' Damn him. Wilson snapped another twig, tossing it into the fire. If Maxwell wanted to go and get himself killed, that was _his_ problem. _What_ resource? They weren't hurting for anything right now, not that he knew of. Food, wood, water, they had the basics at the least.

 

“ _Screw it._ ” Wilson sighed, standing up and dusting off his trousers. He'd leave the fire going, but he wasn't staying up all night for this! The darkness that covered his eyes was so sudden that he gave a short cry, his body going tense as he was pulled back against a tall, familiar body. “Hey—Maxwell!” The scientist protested with a none too pleased tone of voice, reaching up in order to to grasp at the magician's arm. Before he could even touch it, he felt the other hand on him. It settled just above his navel, sliding boldly down, and _into_ the front of his trousers. “ _Aah,_ ” Wilson's breath caught in his throat, arching his back and pressing his shoulders back into the body behind him. But something was... _off._

 

The  _texture_ of the long and devious fingers that came to mercilessly assault him so intimately were too...  _smooth._ A stab of panic raced through the scientist, and he reached up to snatch away the hand covering his eyes. Sure enough he discovered that the hand—and the rest of the creature assaulting him, were entirely black. A  _shadow clone_ ? “Sto— _Maxwell,_ where are you?” Wilson tried very hard to maintain his irritated tone, but the deft fingers manipulating his sensitive member underneath his clothing made it rather hard to focus. His right hand came down to grasp at the shadow-wrist of the hand in his trousers, a growl of defeat escaping his throat when his fingers merely sank into the rubbery substance. Soon enough those shadow-fingers wrapped around his swiftly awakening cock, causing Wilson's breath to grow shorter. “We do-don't have ti-time fa-for this,” Wilson's fingers drag through the clone's arm, becoming damp from it.

 

It was no use. Still, all of this was much too familiar for comfort. Things had changed between them ever since Maxwell had fallen down to his level. Displaced, the king had become no more than just another survivor. Though as Wilson had swiftly learned, nothing was quite so simple. Wilson had sworn to himself that he would never allow himself to be degraded ever again now that he didn't  _have_ to allow Maxwell to touch him. It was a vow that he'd broken within their first few weeks together. It wasn't  _Wilson's_ fault that it had become a comfort. It  _did_ help his pride a little to know that he  _could_ say no, and he told himself that he  _chose_ not to. Even still, they weren't quite equals. Maxwell maintained a certain amount of power, one of them being the ability to create shadow clones to do his bidding.

 

A shape appeared just at the edge of Wilson's vision, where the light of the fire dropped off into darkness. He narrowed his eyes, still somewhat attempting to stop the clone's advances as he tried to make sure that he was seeing things right. Just before he called out for the tall figure ahead of him, it stepped into the firelight. “ _Another_ ?” Wilson's voice betrayed his utter frustration as the second clone approached him. Was Maxwell even alright? These things caused a hit to his sanity and health, didn't they? Wilson's lips parted, and he pulled in the breath to speak as the second clone reached for his chin. Before he could make a sound, his mouth was sealed by the clone's.

 

“ _Mmph_!” Wilson grimaced as its shadow-tongue penetrated his mouth, filling it with the taste of oil and ashes. He knew better than to bite down, settling for shoving hard at its shoulders, relying on the creatures mass being solid enough to force it to move. It worked, even if his hands sank into the gel-like body a good inch and a half. It made him shudder, and he turned his head to spit. The first clone's hand pulled free of his pants, its hands instead going for Wilson's wrists. Grasping them tightly, Wilson found his hands pulled up above his head by the dreadfully tall clone. “What are you playing at, Maxwell?” Wilson shouted now. He could do nothing but wiggle within that grasp as the second clone's hands went for his waistcoat. Surprisingly nimble, it was unbuttoned within seconds, and his shirt was following suit. Was he really about to be assaulted by shadow clones? _Again_?

 

Wilson wouldn't admit it, but it  _hurt._ As much as he disliked the former king, he could no longer say that he  _hated_ him. Maxwell hadn't  _changed,_ but he had been forced to show another side, living alongside Wilson like this. And though he couldn't admit it, the stubborn old man, he even needed the scientist a bit. He might know many of this world's secrets, but he was also surprisingly fragile without the powers of the throne. Something like this felt like a betrayal. Was it some sort of show of power? A lapse in sanity? It was beyond frustrating not to know! A low growl escaped the back of Wilson's throat as the second clone's hands reached his trousers. They were undone swiftly, and pushed easily from his narrow hips. Shadow-fingers wrapped around his now full arousal, giving him a few blissfully swift strokes, earning a low whine from the captive scientist. To his utter shock, the second clone dropped down to its knees. Wilson only understood a second before it happened, a squeak of shock escaping his throat as he tried to pull his hips back, which only resulted in pressing them up against the first clone's hips. The kneeling clone leaned forward, wrapping full, smooth lips around the head of his erection.

 

“G- _Oh, God,_ ” Wilson's eyes nearly fluttered shut, his knees close to giving out. Though the clone's body temperature was lower than a human's, its texture was damp, smooth, and silky. It swallowed the scientist's cock effortlessly, and to his mortification, Wilson could _see himself_ through the clone's semi-solid form. Choosing to close his eyes instead, the scientist's lips parted for a series of heavy breaths and high, almost distressed groans of shameless pleasure. The clone didn't _suck_ so much as it moved its head back and forth, creating a natural suction with the motion. “ _Max, Max please, en-enough..._ ” Wilson panted, hands balled into fists and knees shaking. Never, _ever_ had the clones done _this_ to him!

 

The clone behind him switched his wrists over to one hand, though Wilson wasn't really struggling anymore. He felt the freed hand slide down over one cheek of his backside, knowing just where this was going. And  _damn it,_ he wasn't really in any state to stop  _now._ Pressing his hips forward enough for that hand to fit in behind him only pressed him into the kneeling clone's mouth, and the resulting moan became a sharp gasp as he felt the first slender, slick digit pressing into his body. It was a wonder that he remained standing, trapped between the two clones, and coming to rock between their vulgar attentions. The knowledge that Maxwell was somewhere out of sight watching never left his mind, he had simply ceased to care. Two, then three fingers filled him easily, and the scientist was a shuddering, panting mess between these damnable creatures. Just as soon as his body began to tense up in preparation of release, Wilson found his wrists let go of. The clone in front of him pulled back, and the one behind him stepped away, leaving the scientist on wobbly legs, with shadow residue dripping down between his thighs, utterly overwhelmed.

 

Right before his eyes, the clones vanished.

 

“Sorry pal,” Came the voice of his nightmares, “I got a little jealous.” Wilson spun around, nearly tripping on the trousers around his ankles, spotting the tall magician standing by the tent.

 

“ _You bas—_!”

 

“ _Language,_ Wilson.” Maxwell chided as he approached the furious and flustered scientist. As he came closer, Wilson could see that Maxwell's suit was somewhat dirty and disheveled, as if he might have been involved in a fight. So maybe that was the reason for the clones, but that didn't excuse what he had just done. Leaving Wilson painfully aroused, shirt and waistcoat open, and pants around his ankles. And then to make them go away! As Maxwell came closer, Wilson bent down to free one foot from his shoe and pants. The other followed, so that by the time that the former king was close enough, Wilson could step forward unhindered, fisting his hands into the magician's tattered lapels. Maxwell lifted his hands as if in defense, but his Cheshire grin never left his face. “Now now, let's not resort to—”

 

“ _Shut up and lay down._ ” Wilson snapped. Maxwell's grin reached its full, infuriating potential, and the magician moved to lay down near the fire without hesitation, leaning back on his elbows. Wilson stepped across those long legs, dropping down to straddle them. “I hate you,” the scientist muttered as his hands moved to unfasten Maxwell's trousers. It was no shock to find the magician was fully hard, confirming that he had been watching all along.

 

“You say the _sweetest_ things, pal.” Maxwell chimed back at him, and Wilson's glare was only half-hearted. The former demon lost a bit of his careful composure as Wilson's pulled out his erection, wasting no time in positioning himself over it, the fingertips of his left hand pressed along the underside Maxwell's cock to guide it. However, instead of sinking straight down onto it, Wilson merely pressed it between the cleft of his backside, causing both of them to gasp as he moved his hips slowly up and down.

 

“ _Never again,_ ” Wilson murmured, his breath shuddering. As much as he was _dying_ to finish this, his remaining dignity was at stake! Maxwell's brows furrowed, and his mouth pressed into a straight line. “ _Never again,_ ” Wilson insisted again, “ _Not without permission._ ” He added this time, and not without a deep red flush to his face. All hesitance was gone from Maxwell's expression, and he grinned again.

 

“ _Deal._ ”

 

They both groaned as Wilson sank down onto him, the residue left behind by the first clone more than enough to make the action go over smoothly. The scientist's free hand came to grasp Maxwell's other lapel, and he held them tightly as he lifted his hips. He watched with pride as Maxwell's eyes fell half-closed, full lips parted for a hitched breath when he came back down. It might be shameful, maybe even vulgar, but Wilson had discovered a  _power_ in this that he had never had before. Maxwell was no longer unreachable, unfailable. He was  _human._ Wilson ignored the burning protest of his thigh muscles as he rocked his hips, raising them up and dropping back down for an audible slap of his flesh against Maxwell's clothed thighs. It wasn't as if it was the first time that they'd had sex in this state of dress, but this too had been Wilson's choice. He hadn't wanted to  _wait_ long enough for Maxwell to undress.

 

The magician's right hand slipped between them, and Wilson's knees pressed in at Maxwell's hips as those skillful fingers wrapped around his neglected erection. That, too, was still slick from the clone's residue, making it all too easy to stroke the scientist. Wilson didn't last long this way, having already been so teased. His hips jerked as he came, his head tilting up as his back arched, a low whine traveling up from his chest and issuing forth from his tight throat. Maxwell tensed under him not long after, and Wilson mercifully continued the thrust of his hips in order to allow the former king to ride out his own orgasm. Only once Maxwell was left panting, and they were both trembling with the sweet relief of release, did Wilson's hips stop. Sitting up fully, Maxwell's left hand moved to cup Wilson's cheek, leaning in.

 

The scientist pulled back before their lips could touch, and he stood on shaking legs, leaving the magician looking up at him with slight surprise. Wilson merely stepped back across Maxwell's legs, moving over to his pants and bending to pick them up. He had some rags in the tent that would take care of the mess between his thighs, and right now that was his one and only concern. “Are you coming?” He called out finally, just as he ducked into the tent. Maxwell's laughter followed him, and even that was strangely comforting. The former king would have taken such an action as an unpardonable offense before; leaving without permission. But now the man could laugh at it, seeming honestly amused with Wilson's curtness.

 

Things had changed, yet not completely. And maybe that was alright. They didn't make a terrible team out here, after all. And besides, if there was one thing that Wilson couldn't deny, it was that he always slept better after sex.


End file.
